


Draco Malfoy and the Calendar of Harry Potters

by countingcr0ws



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Getting Together, Good Draco Malfoy, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Matchmaking Hermione Granger, Nude Modeling, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Secondary Theme: Book Fair, Sexy Harry Potter, Smitten Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-10-29 23:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcr0ws/pseuds/countingcr0ws
Summary: Draco finds his life spiralling out of control with the purchase of Harry Potter's sexy calendar for charity.





	1. February

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[15](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/161779.html?thread=5197299#t5197299).
> 
> I would really like to thank Marshview for betaing my fic regardless of my general hot mess. 
> 
> Also, to the mods for the extension.

> **(Valentine's Day) **
> 
> A nude Harry James Potter is sitting on a Slytherin green couch, slim ankles crossed before him to protect his modesty. The book, _ Men Who Loved Dragons Too Much _is propped on his knees. He seems amused by its contents. 
> 
> A crocheted red afghan is thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, a poorly wrapped present peeking out from underneath. There is a small Muggle plush dragon lying on its side on the coffee table before Harry James Potter. 

The sky had only begun to lighten when Draco snapped to sudden consciousness on a Muggle's bed for the second time in the month. Removing the pale arm on him carefully, he mentally catalogued the crustiness in his nether regions. With his friends' preference for Muggle bars post-war and his unfortunate horniness since the start of the year, Draco had come to be familiar with the sensation of dried come in the morning.

Draco sighed to himself as he sat up gently, careful to not wake his dark haired companion._ Bloody calendar_, he griped as he collected the mess of his clothes on the floor. He had always been mocked by his friends for his preference in brunettes, and it had only gotten worse since the release of Potter's sexy calendar. Draco started to exclusively fuck dark haired Muggles to satiate his horniness, and his body count was getting a bit ridiculous for a Healer swarmed with cases. Taking one last look at the expanse of muscles on the bed, Draco made a face to himself at the thick mop of black hair before leaving the room. 

In all honesty, Draco spent the entirety of January considering whether to throw out the blasted Potter calendar before he had come to the inevitable fact that he could never part with it. There was no cure to the insatiable hunger, and Draco was resigned to salivate with the rest of the wizarding world over Potter's semi-nude form every month, foreseeable year and all of eternity. 

Even though the funds raised from the calendars would go to Hermione's innumerable causes, the purchase of the calendar had brought what felt like the weight of society's suffering upon himself. He would wake to the call of Potter's lewd picture, smirking as he read Tonden Thunderous' scandalous book, _ Men Who Loved Dragons Too Much, _ in the nude.

Thunderous had chronicled his romps in a dragon sanctuary, and as if it wasn't bad enough that Potter was consuming pure fiction masked in a veneer of professional experience (just slightly better than the hogwash Lockhart peddled in Second Year), Potter had opened the book to approximately the 23rd chapter of the book (Draco had absolutely _not_ counted and had definitely _not_ fought with the crowds to purchase the book) where Thunderous had elaborated his insertion of a whole arm into a horny dragon's vagina to soothe her.

Fucking Potter, Draco thought, as he made his way across the Muggle's living room blandly. Fuck Hermione too, he added for good measure as he pulled the main door close behind him with a world weary sigh. Draco spelled the laces of his boots up as he thought about the next strongly worded letter he would send her. It would probably make her day, and given her packed schedule, Merlin knew she needed a good pick-me-up. Draco quickly concealed his wand when he heard the fiddling of the neighbouring unit's lock. 

The bland smile Draco had on his face fell away when the door swung open with a flourish to reveal his one night stand's neighbour, Harry bloody Potter himself. 

Potter blinked at him in shock, dark green eyes darting back and forth, between Draco and his Muggle neighbour's door. Thankfully, unlike Potter, Draco was in possession of more class and subtlety. He scanned across Potter's form quickly, taking in the round necked shirt, shorts and Muggle trainers on his feet. Draco gave him a tight nod in acknowledgement.

"Erm," Potter's index finger darted between Draco and the door belonging to Draco's Muggle one night stand before scratching his sideburns where a short curl had escaped his messy topknot. Potter continued to gape uselessly at him. 

With an eye roll, Draco combed his fringe backwards as casually as he could manage. He really should have spelled his hair in place before leaving his one night stand's house, but it was now too late. Trust Potter to always casually realign the world to thwart him. What were the chances that Draco would pick up a Muggle who lived beside Potter? 

"Morning," Draco said with the smile he greeted every patient with during morning inspections. The Malfoy facial structure was not suited for smiles, and it had taken him months to craft one that helped him to avoid complains about his poor bedside manner. 

"Going for a jog?" Draco asked, as casually as he would about a patient's well-being. He hummed pleasantly as Potter replied with a confused throaty noise that made him sound like a cornered crup. 

"I see, have a great work out, Potter," Draco said mildly with a cordial nod as he began to leave. If there was a little more sway in his hips, it would only have been a coincidence. 

\- - - 

Draco threw open his cupboard doors the moment he apparated into his walk-in wardrobe. Unzipping his jeans hurriedly, he moaned at the pull of the rough fabric against his already hard cock. Concentration shot, he struggled to conjure lubricant onto his shaky hand. 

_ Fuck _, he thought as his hand glided up his length while he stared at the calendar affixed to the back of his cupboard. He had been so close to those muscular thighs today. When had Potter decided to put his hair up? Draco exhaled with a breathy moan as he imagined his fingers being caught in Potter's messy bun as he pushed Potter's ridiculous dragonkeeping book aside to ride him. Fuck, the sight of Potter's green eyes behind his curtain of long hair, wet mouth dropping open wide like today when he orgasmed, fuck. Draco's muscles contracted as his orgasm ripped through him violently. A loud groan tore from his lips as come spurted out with a shudder. 

Breath laboured, Draco pressed his forehead against the door of his cupboard, steadying his breath with his softening cock in hand. Merlin, the interaction with Potter had really done him in. Draco couldn't remember the last time his orgasm had been so quick and violent. Registering the absurdity of his situation, Draco waved his come away before casting his day-old clothes to his hamper. 

Draco suddenly thought about his hair. How had it looked to Potter? Draco ran to his dressing table, stricken by the ghastly reflection that greeted him. At least he had seemed to make an impression, he consoled himself desperately, cheered by the memory of Potter unable to comprehend his presence. Fuck, was he now in possession of the knowledge of Potter's personal address? Trust Potter to live in a Muggle neighbourhood. Draco rolled his eyes at the predictability of Gryffindors, completely ignoring the fact that he too was also currently living in one. 

Draco flinched suddenly as he came to another realisation. What if Potter noticed the physical similarities between his neighbor and himself, and he accurately traced Draco's sexual preference? Draco was distinctly familiar with the doggedness and uncanny intuition of Potter. The fool could be more persistent than a kneazle with a feather when he set his mind to it, and he would always somehow uncover the truth. 

Draco combed his fringe back in frustration. If only he wasn't so desperate to see Potter's dick, he thought moodily as he selected the blandest outfit to go under his healer robes, in reflection of the clusterfuck of the day. If only he wasn't so turned on by calendar Potter. He then wouldn't have found himself in the house of Potter's neighbour, successfully avoiding being exposed by Potter for having this _ thing _ for him, and then he would not have to find ways to cover his tracks. 

Draco massaged his temples, his sigh reverberating in his shower chamber. The calendar was exactly like Potter himself, bringing equal measures of trouble and ecstasy with its existence. It soothed his moods even as it made his heart ache, and it had brought about his first conversation (if it even counted as one) with Potter in more than four years since the trials. It was such a bloody treasure that when Draco had first received the calendar, he had even considered arranging for his solicitor to ensure that it would be under an everlasting preservation charm and stored in one of the Malfoy family bank vaults upon his own death. His only refrain had been the knowledge of Hermione's intricate spells on the calendar. In sheer paranoia, the witch had placed multiple spells on the calendars, one of which included tying the calendar to the first person who touched it, essentially mooting Draco's thought of making it a Malfoy heirloom.

Draco swiped the shampoo suds from his eyes in frustration. If only he had made a better impression on Potter today. Mind wandering to the memory of Potter's muscular thighs and his still-knobbly knees, Draco felt his consternation fade a little, a soft moan reverberating in the shower chamber as he worked his cock once more, albeit slower this time.


	2. March

> (**St Patrick's Day)**
> 
> Harry James Potter is seated at the counter of a dimly lit bar, dressed in a dark green blazer with nothing underneath. His hair is tucked behind his ears. His slim and shapely finger is trailing the rim of a sweating bottle of stout while he looks into the distance, seemingly lost in thoughts, a faint smile resting on his face.
> 
> The seat beside Harry James Potter is empty. His finger continues to trace the diameter of the bottle mouth. 

Draco pressed his knuckles along his jaw, feeling the bone underneath. After reading a Muggle article on forensic facial reconstruction a few days ago, he had found his thoughts straying to the topic whenever his mind was idle. If he were handed great grandfather Septimus Malfoy's skull, would he be able to identify that he was at least a Malfoy? Draco was simultaneously unsettled yet coolly ambivalent about the inability to do so. Personally, he would be interested in a challenge of such morbid proportions, but alas, his ancestry had the unfortunate effect of making him a bit sick as of late. Regardless, if there was one thing Draco was sure of, it would be his ability to identify Justin Finch-Fletchley from his skull if someone did the world a favour by ridding it of him. After all, Draco had spent more than an hour scrutinising the miserable sod.

Draco returned his attention to the one-sided conversation his insufferable blind date was having with himself. "—differentiation of bond price with respect to the interest rate. Because the bond price is always the same, the differentiation is always zero, which is the best investment anyone with any ounce of sense can make!" 

Draco wet his lips as he subtly looked around their table, hoping that nobody else was paying attention to the trainwreck that was happening. He made a face when he caught a piteous look from a dark haired girl. Nonetheless, Draco had really brought it upon himself, as usual. 

A day after the disastrous event with Potter, Draco had approached Pansy for help to throw Potter's scent off. He had sat through the requisite "We've been telling you this from the beginning!", the "This obsession is getting ridiculous, you need to get over Potter" and the worst, the "Draco you need to stop running away from your feelings, we are all worried for you" spiel before receiving the advice that he needed. 

It was unfortunate that between his work and the general anxiety of an imminent humiliation by Potter, he had not come up with the terribly obvious solution on his own. He could have otherwise skipped the messy conversation where Pansy had insisted that he had _ feelings _ for Potter. The idea of it always made him shudder. The only feelings he had with regards to the speccy git was immense annoyance. Couldn't Potter have been a less fine specimen of a man? _Honestly_. 

Draco had visited Daphne post haste to explain his situation and express his desire to participate in her blind date service. Daphne had smirked at him before proceeding to fill out an application form on his behalf. After reviewing it with no complaints, he had signed it off, paid the required membership fee and left, relieved and buoyant.

However, all the goodwill he had initially possessed towards Daphne had now evaporated. How could dark hair, no preference for blood status, interest in muggle technology, discerning tastes in clothes, avid interest in learning and a love for slow days equate to Finch-Fletchley? In retrospect, he really should have pursued the reason for Daphne's amusement when she processed his application. Had she been thinking about his compatibility with Finch-Fletchley? It was a wonder how her business could thrive when her comparability spells were so poor. 

Draco had already mentally prepared the strongly worded letter he would be sending Daphne immediately after the blind date, assuming it ever ended. It had to be mentioned that while Draco was self-absorbed (yes, he was actually aware of his flaws), Finch-Fletchley's own narcissism was many folds worse. The man had not ceased his yammering about yields, bonds and maturity since Draco had politely enquired about his work at the start of the date, and Draco would have pitied him for his lower-middle class obsession with money had he been less annoying. 

"Sorry, can we get the desserts now?" Draco asked a passing server. Finch-Fletchley barely acknowledged the request as he moved on to talk about an idiot colleague at Barclays. Draco found it unfortunate that he was unable to commiserate. Even though there were also idiots at his own workplace, he was unfortunately too preoccupied with the gigantic idiot opposite him to think about any others. Draco smiled faintly at the grand irony of them having an idiot apiece to fixate upon. 

Suddenly feeling a pair of eyes on himself, Draco looked up, going faint at the sight of Potter smirking at him, Hermione chattering away on his right as they made their way to their assigned table. Regardless of the discomfort Draco felt at being the source of Potter's amusement, he could not deny that his ex-nemesis was a sight to behold. 

In a grey vest thrown atop a crisp white button down and a marching set of grey pants, Potter looked like every wet dream Draco had ever had, his sharp attire accentuating his natural, if not slightly dangerous appeal. Draco felt his cheeks flush as he shifted in his seat. 

When Potter mimed chattering at him while making a face at Finch-Fletchley's back, Draco suddenly realised how terrible the entire date would look to Potter. Firstly, Finch-Fletchley was dark haired, completely unsuited to Draco's intentions of throwing Potter's scent off. Secondly, he was on a date with Finch-Fletchley, who was undoubtedly an insufferable twit.

Panic began to crawl over Draco's skin. Should he dismiss Finch-Fletchley immediately to escape Potter's humiliating sympathy? Or should he gesture something rude at Potter? While Draco had been deliberating his next move, Hermione seemed to notice that she had lost her friend's attention, and she turned around with a look of annoyance. Great, now two of the Golden Trio was pitying him. Oh joy, it was now officially three out of three. Draco couldn't remember when he had last been so fortunate. 

Draco returned his attention to his table when the server returned with his crème brûlée and nothing for Mr "sweets are for kids". Thanking the server, Draco felt his mood recover as he marvelled the plate before him. 

Lifting the spoon, he cracked the caramelised sugar on top with relish. The desserts at L'intimiste were stellar, and since he had first chanced upon the restaurant with Hermione years ago, he had dragged her back multiple times just for their crème brûlée. Slicing his pudding carefully, Draco scooped a fragile piece up as Finch-Fletchley's dry conversation and the embarrassment of being caught in an awful date by Potter faded away. 

Pressing the bit between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Draco savoured the sweet eggy flavor with a sigh. His work as a healer and his corresponding competence gave him a sense of contentment but it was moments like these, with such simple pleasures, that made him miss the happier days before Hogwarts, when he had run about the manor with his mother and the elves catering to his innumerous whimsical demands. 

Draco helped himself to another pleased mouthful of his desert. Giving his date a cursory glance, Draco started at the expression on Finch-Fletchley's face. Not only was the Acclaimed Investment Banker silent for the first time since Draco had asked about his work at the start of the date, Finch-Fletchley was also gaping at him with a strange intensity in his eyes. 

Giving in to the propriety of his upbringing, Draco pushed his desert to the center of the table with the grace and manners befitting a Malfoy. He offered his spoon wordlessly, on a mission to not speak a word until they parted, just so that the date would seem even more disastrous, when he recounted it to his friends. 

"Erm, no. It's fine," Finch-Fletchley said, sounding strangely strangled. "—don't eat sweets," he said faintly as he dabbed at his temples. Draco shrugged before pulling the plate back to himself. More for himself then! 

Looking back at this ridiculous date years after, Draco would only remember the shape of Finch-Fletchley's skull, Potter's unbelievable sexiness, and the crème brûlée. It was just as well that he could only remember the good parts.


	3. April

> **(Harry Potter with a Snitch)**
> 
> A snitch is flying in the air. A hand reaches from behind, catching it between a thumb and index finger. The camera focuses, revealing a nude Harry James Potter lying on in a bed on his side, smiling widely as the wings on the snitch fold into itself. 
> 
> Harry James Potter rolls onto his front as he inspects the snitch. His bare and round bottom stands out in the far end of the photograph. 

Draco was cheerily signing out a patient when he suddenly heard a stream of childish laughter and the chant of his name at the top volume. "Please fill this out, Mr Dearborn. I will be back with you shortly," he said curtly before dashing off. 

Following the noise, Draco skidded around the corner, sighing in exasperation when he saw his little cousin. "Teddy! Inside voice!" Draco scolded, his frown quickly smoothing when his cousin barreled into him in excitement. Picking the boy up easily with a sigh, he combed Teddy's platinum blond fringe backwards lightly as he connected the dots for Teddy's presence in the hospital. 

"Where's Gandie?" He asked lightly as he bounced his cousin on his hip, using the portmanteau favoured by his cousin for Grandmother Andromeda. Two weeks ago, Andromeda had mentioned about Teddy's upcoming annual appointment to check for potential symptoms of lycanthropy.

"Harry came with me!" Teddy beamed as Draco looked around in disbelief. 

"Where is Harry then?" Draco asked as he returned to the checkout counter, simultaneously greeting his colleagues in the hallway with a nod of his head. 

"Dunno, he got lost," Teddy shrugged before starting to squirm in his arms, demanding to be released. Draco set the boy down gently, spelling him close as he nudged his cousin back to Mr Dearborn. 

"Teddy, would you like to meet Mr Dearborn? Mr Dearborn is an herbologist like Uncle Neville. Mr Dearborn just returned from the Amazon rainforest in Brazil where he discovered a new plant with big teeth! And the plant bit him! Do you want to ask Mr Dearborn to show you the big bite from the scary plant?" Draco bent slightly, hands on his knees as he spoke to his Teddy. "My cousin, Theodore Lupin," he introduced quickly to his patient, smiling to himself when Teddy began to pester the man. Draco returned to the forms in satisfaction. 

"I almost died, if it wasn't for your cousin," the patient said as he pushed his sleeve up to show Teddy the scar for which he had stubbornly declined dittany. 

"Cool!" Teddy breathed in awe as he reached to run his finger across what Draco knew to be a pink and ghastly scar. Draco had managed to isolate the plant's toxin and develop an antidote from the sample provided, and his feverishly gibbering patient had fully recovered after half a week of recuperation. The scar however, would take weeks to look better. Draco sighed, looking up at the startled laughter from his patient. 

Draco frowned at the patient who wisely rolled his sleeve back down. "Teddy, isn't that too big for you?" He asked as waved the forms off to their respective departments, shaking his head at the mark that Teddy had replicated on his arm. Andromeda would eviscerate him if it stayed. "How about something smaller like Harry's?" He suggested as he brushed Teddy's fringe back to rub at where Potter's infamous scar sat.

"Think that mine's pretty big, Malfoy." 

Draco jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. "Potter!" Draco greeted in shock, noting the mirth and intensity on the man's face as he felt his body reflexively clench in excitement. 

"Harry, look at my scar! Mr Dearborn has the same scar!" Teddy exclaimed as he waved his arm. 

"Mr Dearborn?" Potter repeated in confusion, brows rising in surprise when he suddenly noticed the sandy haired stranger between them. 

"That would be me, one of the many indebted to Healer Draco's skillful hands." If the patient was surprised to see the saviour of the wizarding world and the Appleby Arrows' exalted seeker, it didn't show. 

"Healer Draco?" Potter repeated as his eyes returned to Draco once more, giving him a slow once over. Draco desperately tried not to react to the sound of his first name in Potter's timbre. 

"Mr Dearborn almost died, Harry!" Teddy interjected loudly. "Draco saved him and now he has a big scar!"

Mr Dearborn smiled at the young boy. "And now you have the same, don't you? Draco spent two weeks saving me," he said, turning to address Potter. 

Draco frowned at the strange tension from his patient. While Draco had to offload some of his patients to his colleagues due to the complexity of the case, he had always found the man's effusive gratitude to be excessive. Draco cast a quick look at Potter who looked strangely unhinged. It was a look which Draco was unfortunately familiar with.

"Mr Dearborn, I'm glad that you appreciate the care that St Mungo's has provided during your stay. Should you feel any discomfort or issues with your vision, do return to our emergency care unit for immediate follow up. Otherwise, your documents are in order and I don't hope to see you again," Draco joked as he looked at the man's arm with a wry shake of his head, surprised by the frown that he received instead from his usually chatty patient. 

Upset, Draco pressed his cousin close for support as the other man suddenly stormed off. "He's usually a lot more pleasant," Draco apologised to Potter before reaching for Teddy's hand. "Shall we get some dittany for that scar, Teddy?" Draco asked as he led his cousin in search of a Healer's tray, motioning for Potter to follow. 

\- 

"Can't believe that you lost my cousin, Potter," Draco said as they stepped out of the hospital for lunch while Teddy visibly vibrated at the excitement of visiting a Muggle eatery, having gotten over the disappointment of not visiting Uncle George at Diagon Alley. 

Draco watched the knee jerk defensiveness fade as quickly as it rose. Potter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't know it was tradition to take you to lunch after his visits, and when I said that I didn't know which ward you were at, he just ran off," Potter explained with a dejected shrug that _ almost _ made Draco sympathise enough not to rat to Andromeda. Emphasis on the almost because Draco was mean as fuck. 

Stopping when they reached the apparition point, Draco rolled his eyes before reaching for Potter's shoulder, quickly cataloguing the muscles under his arm before apparating near their lunch place. 

"I don't like to use the childcare spell and I'm usually able to catch him, but the hallways had too many people and floating items," Potter defended desperately. Teddy broke free from their hands as they arrived at an apparition point near their destination, gasping as he hopped dramatically to avoid the crack lines on the pavement.

"Save those excuses for Gandie," Draco smirked before holding Teddy's hand as they crossed the road. As he did previously, Potter held onto Teddy's other hand. 

Pushing the shop's glass door open, Draco suddenly fretted. "Are you okay with Chinese?" He asked quickly, suddenly remembering to enquire about Potter's preference. "It's authentic and they even pull their noodles fresh," he explained hurriedly at the hesitation on Potter's face. Healer Zhou had brought them to the shop during their trainee days and Draco had come to crave their beef noodles from time to time. After both his mother and Andromeda agreed that it tasted like the noodles their great grandfather had served, they would often drop by as a family. 

Draco was about to suggest another location when Potter suddenly nodded. Strange-footed with surprise, Draco ushered his cousin into the shop before him. As it was before noon, the shop was still sparsely filled. Selecting a table along the edge of the shop, Draco sat beside his cousin when Potter conceded the honor. Subtly resizing the colouring book and crayons he had taken from his cubicle before they left, Draco set his cousin's materials under the menu that Teddy was studiously perusing. 

"Can I tempt you with a bowl of beef noodles, Teddy?" Draco asked politely as his cousin continued to frown at the selection before him. 

Teddy broke out into a smile as he dropped his menu onto the table with a clatter. "No, I'll get tomato egg noodles!" 

"Great choice, Mr Lupin," Draco agreed playfully as he jotted both their preferences on the slip of paper on the table. "What about you, Potter?" Draco looked up in question, his hand jumping at the intensity in Potter's eyes. Desperate to cover his reaction, Draco fussed over his cousin's colouring book as he tried to collect himself. The fact that he was seated opposite Potter in a Chinese restaurant was simply bizarre. He had tried to block out Potter's proximity in Mungo's and on their journey to the restaurant but now that they were without the stimulation of strangers and passers-by, it was sinking in that he, Draco Malfoy, was having the beginnings of a pleasant meal with his childhood nemesis, wank fantasy, trigger for the realisation of his sexual preference, favourite professional quidditch player, preferred calendar model and the reason for his chronic one night stands, failed blind dates and persistent singlehood, Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world himself. 

"Erm, I'll get whatever you're having," Potter blurted. 

"The beef noodles?" 

"Yeah."

"Broad noodles?"

"Broad? Erm, sure."

"Any drinks?" Draco asked, focusing intensely on the slip of paper before him. 

"Whatever you're having would be fine." 

Draco looked up quizzically. "Warm water? Tea?" 

"Yeah, sure. Anything that you're having," Potter replied quickly, dropping his menu loudly before giving Draco an apologetic look for the apparently unintentional gesture.

"Alright then. Just water for all of us," Draco waved for the server, and sent their orders away. 

"Are you sure that you want the dragon to be white?" Draco asked his cousin, desperate to put off talking to Potter as much as possible, afraid that he would burst into flames at prolonged conversation. Potter was simply too much, and Draco worried about his mortality.

"Of course!" Teddy replied as he continued to scribble studiously with his white crayon on the Muggle book with its bleached papers. "This is a Draco dragon so it has white scales, like your hair." 

"Draco's hair is a bit darker," Harry piped in, lifting a crayon and holding it before Draco's face. "Not too dark though, sort of silver and spun—" he broke off to an inaudible mumble with a slight frown. After a pulse of magic, the green crayon immediately transformed to the exact shade of Draco's pale hair. Draco pressed his thighs together as he felt his bottom clench, refusing to outwardly react to the nonchalant wandless and wordless. Trust Potter to casually display his prowess so. 

"Ah, now it's just like your hair too!" Potter beamed as he handed the crayon over to his ecstatic godson. 

"So you do the book thing too?" Potter asked as he nodded at the coloring book when Teddy returned to his drawing with doubled excitement. Art supplies as a method of distraction was pioneered by Andromeda, and it had proven its versatility many times over.

Draco shrugged. "It's helpful, I guess. I suppose that you don't?" He took a sip of the water when it arrived, desperate for a distraction. 

"Ah, not really. I try to maximise all the time I have with him, you know?" Potter eyes widened at his own words. "Not that you're not doing it, I feel like he's growing up so fast and I'm not around enough," he explained desperately. "I never knew that Quidditch players travelled so much until I became one," he shook his head before finger combing his hair, stopping at the base of his messy bun. 

Draco raised a cool brow at Potter's words. It was such a typical Gryffindor behavior to not know what they were signing up for. "I don't usually bring them either but I figured that we were due for a conversation." 

Draco watched as Potter chewed on the corner of his bottom lip. Frankly, the short intervals between the occasions of close contact with Potter was alarming. Given the size of the English magical community and his cordial relationship with Hermione (Draco would even count her as a friend if he had adequate alcohol content in his bloodstream) it was obviously impractical to avoid Potter entirely, but the previous normal of once every quarter had somehow been upended since his last one night stand in February. 

Sure, he had heard about Potter from Hermione, his cousin and his aunt, but he had never once talked to Potter properly nor sat across him for meals. The world had spun off its axis since the announcement of the charity calendars. 

"Erm, what do you want to talk about?" Potter asked as he shifted in his seat. 

Draco measured the man with narrowed eyes. After joining professional Quidditch, Potter had become an absolute media darling. Reporters swooned over Potter's playful charm and charisma, and Draco had listened to his convicted opinions on the Arrows' odds over the wireless. Potter fended off intrusive questions so casually that Father's eyes would have watered in envy. However, the Potter before him definitely didn't live up to his public image. If he had to be honest, Potter hadn't seemed like he had grown much from his Hogwarts days. 

Potter's eyes continued to jump about uneasily.

"Read any books lately, Potter?" Draco mentally flinched at his own question. Oh, of all his choices! It took all of his Malfoy upbringing to not betray any of the trepidation he experienced while Potter blinked at him, his lips slowly curling into a smile. 

"Yeah! So Hermione gave me a cookbook on Indian cuisine and I'm halfway through that. It's taking me a while because of work, and needing to cook everything I see, you know?" Potter's eyes were shining as he gestured excitedly. "And I'm pretty good at it, honestly. I even bring it to the Weasleys. It sticks out a bit with the English fare, but it's great." 

Draco smiled at Potter's enthusiasm, raising a brow when the man fumbled, pausing with palpable hesitation. "I guess that it's sort of like this? Chinese food and the Blacks, sort of." Potter shrugged, his shoulders caving in as he bit his lips. 

Draco found it puzzling to see Potter so conscious about being polite to him, especially when it was a logical statement. "Well, that's true," Draco began, hoping to bolster Potter a bit. "Mother has been getting the elves to introduce a bit more Chinese fare in their repertoire but it's slow going. Honestly, noodles, broth and stir-fry are completely beyond them." He laughed at the memory of the elves' collective horror when they had brought back Chinese condiments such as soy sauce and sesame oil. 

"But I'll have to admit that it's a bit distant for us. We're not too fussed about which province the food comes from. We're game as long as it's good," he snickered unapologetically with a careless shrug. Honestly, he cared more about his mother's happiness. With his European lineage, his father had a distinctly European palette and the Chinese lineage in the Blacks had thinned considerably over the generations as they assimilated in Europe. After the incarceration of his father and the renewed relationship with Andromeda, his mother had proved to be a lot more daring in her palette, and she loved Indian food as much as Chinese food. 

"Yeah, it's the same for me." Potter shrugged, slightly apologetic. "I mean with my parents, you know. And then my aunt being, well, yeah. I just go for whatever sounds fun to me, too." 

"You know, Potter," Draco said as he helped Teddy keep his crayons away when his noodles arrived. "Mother really likes Indian food." He nodded in commiseration at the look of disbelief on Potter's face. "Shall we have dinner together one day? We'll bring the best from the Manor and you can bring something from your cookbook. It'll be a culinary exchange of sorts." 

Draco pressed his fingernails into his palms desperately as Potter nodded vigorously with a wide and silly smile. The reception of positive acknowledgement from Potter stirred up intense and confusing emotions that overwhelmed him and made his heart stumble. 

He nearly collapsed in gratitude when the server appeared with both of their orders. 

The afternoon was the beginning of a relationship, twelve years late.


	4. June

> **(International Kissing Day) **
> 
> Harry James Potter is seated behind a table, dressed in a muggle tuxedo suit, bow tie at his neck. He waves his wand and a floating sign appears, reading "Kissing Booth, 10 galleons per kiss". He runs a hand through his hair with an obvious air of awkwardness as he shifts in his seat. 
> 
> Harry James Potter closes his eyes slowly as he takes a deep breath. When he opens them, a relaxed and lopsided smile spreads across his lips. He raises his brows in challenge at the viewer. 

Draco felt his heart jump in disbelief. He would know that broad pair of shoulders, thick wavy hair and sculpted ass anywhere. Striding up to the figure staring at the Arc de Triomphe in the distance, he clasped the man's shoulder, brows raising coolly at the wand that came up swiftly to his throat. Such was a reaction time honed from professional Quidditch, he supposed. Draco had the awareness to be grateful that he had grown out of comparing himself to Potter. The younger him would have had a strop over Potter's reflexes.

"Malfoy, Jesus! You scared me, fuck!" Potter swore as he inspected their surroundings, quickly concealing his wand.

"Payback for sixth year," Draco joked wryly, his smirk widening at the look of disbelief on the other man's face. 

"Jesus, Malfoy. Don't joke about that. I still dream about it sometimes, you know? That you die on me and all. It shakes me up." 

Draco shrugged. In the immediate aftermath of the war, when the magical community had shunned them for the parts they had played, the Slytherins had closed ranks in both support and commiseration. His family's trials had just ended and they had gathered in Blaise's house, worrying about their gloomy prospects when Pansy had gotten frustrated by their pessimism, enquiring if her friends were going to be like the rest of the school in questioning her judgement. All of them had frozen up then, but eventually they had learnt to take their past follies in stride. Had all of them not grown up to become better people? Were they not capable of seeing the wrongs in their past decisions? Then why should they be taken hostage by the erumpent in the room? 

"We all make mistakes, Potter. What good would they be if we can't learn and then joke about them after?" He combed his fingers through his hair. "I must say though, that I trusted that you would recognise me and spare my life." He continued unrepentant as he wiggled his brows in challenge. 

"Merlin's pants, Malfoy. You're positively barking." 

Draco only smirked at his companion. Potter would have a seizure hanging out with his friends. "You're the one who's barking though. Don't you have a not-so-friendly match tomorrow with Paris Pride? Does Waters know that you've snuck out?" 

Potter's eyes lit up as he leaned in with a predatory grin. Draco's heart went wild at the close proximity of their lips. He stepped backwards in sheer cowardice. 

"Aren't you familiar with our schedule? What are the chances of Draco Malfoy being an Archer?" Potter mused as he stared him down, mischief in his eyes. "I remember your fervent support of the Tornadoes." 

Draco placed a palm on Potter's chest as he pushed him backwards, cursing the urge in his fingers to instead curl around Potter's windbreaker. His head felt dizzy from Potter's musky cologne, and wouldn't it be nice if he could rest for a bit in the curve where Potter's neck met his muscular shoulders? Or on Potter's shapely pectorals, he really wasn't picky. "Malfoys don't throw galleons at lost causes, Potter." Draco said airily as he straightened his sleeves. Alas, the wry humor. 

The edges of Potter's lips curled from his will to not laugh even as it reached his eyes. "Bloody hell, Malfoy. I might actually appreciate that." 

Draco tried his best to control the pleasure he felt. "Catch me again when you're joking about your own mistakes," he said as he shifted his weight on his foot. "But it must be mentioned that I am an Archer. A _Harcher,_ in fact." He teased, bringing up the nonsensical portmanteau coined by The Prophet that had unfortunately stuck. What would happen to the fans of Potter's athletic career if he left the Arrows? Honestly. 

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Potter rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms before him with a deep frown. 

"Do you not believe me? How else would I have known about the match with the Prides?" Hermione had charmed the calendars to not only include key dates of the charities the celebrity's funds would be directed to, but also selected dates they desired, which updated automatically throughout the year. For Potter, the calendar included details of the Arrows' games, and would also provide key game details after matches. It was a function that Draco deeply appreciated with his busy schedule.

"Well, maybe Andie told you," Potter retorted, shortness evident in the stubborn set of his jaw even as the tension in his shoulders loosened. 

"Does Andromeda report my comings and goings to you?" Draco challenged with an eye roll. "Did she tell you why I'm in Paris?" 

"Well, maybe..." Potter tried, before shrugging reluctantly. "I don't know, okay?" 

"Whatever, I hope that you don't treat other Harchers this way." He smirked at the displeasure on Potter's face. "Don't sneer, Potter. You don't have the facial structure for it," Draco teased as he poked Potter's furrowed brow, laughing harder when he was swatted away. 

"Stop it, Malfoy!" 

"Stop yourself, Potter."

"No, you stop it!" Potter yelled as he broke his right hand free from Draco's grasp to jab at his abdomen instead. 

Draco's eyes widened, clutching desperately onto Potter's windbreaker when he nearly stumbled onto the busy road from the push. Straightening up with a deep sigh, he smoothed his hair back into place while Potter looked on silently in guilt. 

"Potter, you can sacrifice your life just to reach the Arc, but it wouldn't do to bring me along." He finally grinned as he smoothed the French linen of his shirt. 

"Bloody hell, Malfoy. You're so weird, I can't even." Potter rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're so childish, Malfoy." 

Quickly grabbing Potter by the arm, Draco pretended to push Potter into the road, bursting into laughter at the flash of shock on Potter's face.

"You're an arsehole," Potter scowled when his two feet were back on solid ground. "Just for that, you're going to run across the road with me."

Draco yelped as Potter forcefully dragged him towards the Arc de Triomphe, heedless of the frowning pedestrians. 

\- 

Thanking the maître d'hôtel as they took their seats, Draco watched carefully as Potter reached for the menu without any beat of hesitation. He had been surprised when Potter had asked about his favourite restaurant in Paris, and subsequently insisted that they visit. 

Judging by Potter's casual confidence as he skimmed the menu, it was evident how much Potter had changed from his school days. The past Potter would not have been comfortable releasing a sexy calendar that solely relied on his popularity for sales, nor would he have been at ease in a fairly upscale restaurant, much less a foreign one. And Draco was certain that he wouldn't have gamely spent time shopping to get a new blazer just for dinner. 

After they had visited the Arc de Triomphe (Draco had managed to wrestle Potter into submission to take the underpass instead of dashing across the road), Potter had mentioned that it had been his first time being successful at sightseeing. Draco had learnt that Potter had an abysmal sense of direction and would always get lost whenever he ventured out alone. Taking pity, Draco had shared that he would be looking to purchase some toys for Teddy. Would he like to join? Perhaps they could grab dinner and visit the Eiffel Tower afterwards? 

Draco still found it surreal that Potter would be receptive to the idea of spending an entire evening with him alone. Not counting the impromptu lunch with Teddy, it wasn't lost on him that Potter had been laughing at his misfortune the last time they had been in a restaurant. Now, they were sitting opposite each other. It was far from a date, though. A dinner between friends maybe? 

"Potter, are we friends?" Draco asked as he pulled the menu closer to himself. 

"Erm, yeah?" Potter blinked at him with a look of confusion. "Are we not?" 

Draco smiled at his companion, an unexpected warmth spreading from his heart. He tucked his fringe behind his ear with a faux air of casualness. "Of course we are. I possess the maturity to befriend my childhood nemesis." 

Potter hummed in agreement. "I love it when my very mature friend pushes me into the road just to end an argument." 

"Well Potter, your very mature friend sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. But I'm sure that he was only pretending to push you out, which makes you a smelly liar." Draco smirked as he held Potter's eyes defiantly. 

The both of them startled when a server stopped at their table. When they had placed their orders, Potter enquired about the wine selection, ordering two glasses of light wine to go with their mains. 

Draco bit his bottom lip as he observed Potter's easy confidence as he engaged the other man. Potter was really incredibly sexy, he thought idly to himself as he watched Potter's capable hands stack the menus. Draco imagined them tracing his body. 

After the joint meal between Potter, Andromeda, Teddy, Mother and himself, Draco had experienced a bout of guilt at the idea to wanking to Potter. The increasing familiarity with Potter made it awkward whenever Draco inevitably saw him again. _ Nice grin, Potter. You had the same grin on your face yesterday when I imagined you sucking my cock. _ It was so horribly perverted that Draco could no longer wank to his calendar, and the subsequent dry spell had left him mentally susceptible. When he had been cleared to attend the potions conference in Paris, Draco had—horror of horrors—imagined surreptitiously meeting Potter in Paris, even going so far as to entertain the idea of loitering around the Pride's pitch to surreptitiously meet Potter like a lovesick Harcher. 

Except he didn't even know why he wanted to see Potter so badly. Sure, Potter was fun, but so was Pansy, if you could take the acerbic humor. Sure, Potter was sexy, but so was Blaise, especially when he dialled his charm up to eleven. Maybe it was the effortlessness of Potter? The careless intensity of the man was pretty nice. Or maybe because Potter was a mix of both his best friends. Thinking about it always left Draco incredibly confused, which contributed to his avoidance of the matter entirely. 

"—to get a broom for Teddy." Draco blinked as he caught only the end of Potter's speech. He scowled at the man. 

"No. You're not going to get a broom for Teddy." He proclaimed anyway, confident of what Potter might have said regardless. 

Potter's face darkened similarly. "Well, Teddy's definitely old enough for a toy broom." Potter crossed his arms on the table like the heathen that he truly was. 

"Well, I'm not saying that he's not old enough. I'm saying that you can't get it for him because you're too careless. You'll never teach him about safety and rules." Draco rolled his eyes as he squared his jaw in annoyance. "He would be injured the first minute he gets on if he was with you. I should be the one to get him the broom." 

"You're horrid, Malfoy." 

Draco took a breath to steady himself as he called upon Salazar for patience. "I love it when my _ very mature _ friend says things like these. And you wonder why Andromeda never brought us together." He rolled his eyes again for punctuation. "She fears that she would have two children on her hands if we met." 

"Yeah, dealing with both Teddy and you at the same time would be awful." Potter nodded grimly as he reached for the basket of bread between them.

Draco rolled his eyes long and hard for good measure. "I'll kill you with my bare hands one day, Potter." 

The smile on his companion's face widened. "Asphyxiation play gone wrong?" 

Draco looked around their table in scandalised shock. "Potter, people would think that—" he ran his fingers through his hair, frazzled. "Merlin's pants, Potter. You're lucky that we're in Muggle Paris. The Prophet would have a field day. Imagine having to explain the headline to Weasley." He shuddered involuntarily at the image of Weasley turning as red as his hair in agitation. 

"Well, it would surely ease them into our relationship, wouldn't it?" Potter shrugged with careless ease, his eyes bright with mirth as he continued to slather unhealthy amounts of butter on his bread roll. 

Draco felt himself flush at Potter's choice of word. A relationship! Salazar's balls. He shivered at the idea of a relationship with Potter, a non-platonic one at that. He quickly dispelled the notion from his mind as quickly as it came. He couldn't imagine having to deal with Potter's horrible sense of humor daily. It wouldn't be unpleasant per se, but it would be too much. Simply too much, yes. 

"Well, the amounts of maturity we possess between the two of us would definitely impress everyone." He shrugged before quickly switching topics. "To be honest, I wouldn't have believed that we could manage half a day without maiming each other too seriously." 

"Notwithstanding the multiple death threats," Potter interjected as he bit down on the bread. 

"Yes well, the day has been quite pleasant," he looked to Potter for confirmation, smirking at the nod he received. "Therefore, I would like to invite you to the annual Black family vacation. We're bringing Teddy to Paris to visit Le Zoo Magique, the leading educational and cruelty-free magical zoo." Draco experienced a mild panic at the frown on Potter's blank face. "You are under no obligation to accept my invitation. I merely extended it on the assumption that you might not have visited it, and would be interested in doing so. Also, young Theodore has expressed great—" 

"I'll go. I'm interested," Potter interrupted. "I'm really interested. And happy to be invited. I've never been to a magical zoo before." He raised his brows at Draco with a playful smile. "We might have to work around our schedules though, but wow!" 

Draco returned the other's smile shakily, still tender from the expectation of being rejected by Potter again. Fuck Potter and his own fanboy desperation. Overcome with a sudden bout of exhaustion, Draco experienced an overwhelming desire to retreat under his covers. The day had gone on for too long.

"You know, Teddy used to return from your Black holidays chattering about the sights, and Andie would bring exotic souvenirs back and I would wonder how it was. I think that I might have been a little jealous, to be honest? I've always wanted to bring Teddy overseas, too, but you know, me and directions," he shrugged carelessly. "I'm just really happy to be invited. Does this make me an honorary Black now?" Potter continued, as if forgetting that he was Lord Black with the passing of his godfather. Knowing Potter, he probably was unaware, or cared so little about it that he had forgotten about it entirely. _ Potter, honestly _. 

"Well, Potter. I'll do the planning, and you can do the portkey application because my mother gets dizzy taking Muggle trains." He grinned when Potter's face crumpled. "Come on, Potter. You can use your saviour of the wizarding world status. They'll fall over themselves to process your application."

"You're just being cruel now," Potter complained as he pressed his fingers against his closed eyes. 

"Alright, I'll trade you for the planning and booking then," Draco offered brightly as he leaned forward in challenge. The Magical Borders Restriction Authority was notorious for their bureaucracy and it was always a pain to apply for personal portkeys. He had always handed off the process for their trips to Andromeda due to the Malfoy family's records from the second war. Honestly, it really was unnecessarily cruel, but he simply couldn't pass up an opportunity to mess with Potter. 

"No, no! I'll do it," Potter exclaimed, shooting up from his dejected slouch. 

Draco beamed at his companion, involuntarily bursting out into laughter at the downcast expression on Potter's face. 

Potter's eyes shot up quickly, blinking at him with an expression of shock as his cheeks pinked. "I can't believe that you take so much pleasure in my misery," he complained with a pout before dissolving into mumbles as he fidgeted in his seat. 

"I don't think I'll ever get over taking pleasure in your misery, friends or otherwise," Draco laughed. "Harmless misery, of course," he quickly clarified when the server arrived with their starters. Potter continued to look at him with his strange expression even as Draco thanked the man. 

\- - - 

It was much later when they apparated to Parc du Champ de Mars with their desserts to go. Between petty squabbles, stories about Teddy and their respective careers, dinner had been an unintentionally drawn out affair. When Draco had finally noted the time, he had suggested they skip desserts to visit the Eiffel Tower. Remembering that they had arranged to return in November with Teddy and Family during the off season of Quidditch, Harry had suggested to postpone the visit. Feeling guilty, Draco had proposed to visit the lawn before the Eiffel Tower to watch the light show in compensation. 

Casting a discreet Tempus when he noticed some of the crowds dispersing, Draco sighed when he saw that it was a little after ten. "I think that we've just missed the ten o'clock light show," he mumbled to himself in disappointment, yelping when he received a sharp jab to his side. 

"I've told you that it's fine! I'm happy to even be able to spend time with you, erm, to see Paris!" 

"Much better than sitting idly in your hotel?" Draco asked blandly as he stepped around a couple that were kissing noisily with fervent moans. 

"Yeah, definitely." Potter agreed as they continued to walk closer to the Eiffel Tower. 

"Wait. Here's good," Draco announced when the distance seemed close to what his mother typically preferred when they visited. Looking around, he reached into his blazer with a Muggle coin in hand while subtly transfiguring it into a picnic mat. Pretending to pull it out of his garment, Draco tried his best to ignore how close Potter was standing.

"Glad I thought ahead," Draco commented shamelessly as he unfolded the straw mat with a flourish. Taking off his shoes, he stepped onto the surface before proceeding to lie on his back with a noisy, contented sigh. "Come here, Potter," Draco called out lazily as he patted the space beside him lightly. "We'll have our desserts, and we can revise Astronomy until the next light show."

"Not sure if I'm the best company, honestly," Potter joked with a soft smile, as he removed his shoes clumsily. "I only know Draco the Malfoy and nothing else," he raised his brows at Draco significantly as he set the dessert boxes down. Pressing his knees onto the mat, a wide smile with too much teeth suddenly settled across Potter's face as he crawled towards Draco with a strange glint in his eyes. 

Draco's blood rushed south at the sight. It was an image worthy of the charity calendar in his cupboard, and the past six months' images flashed through his mind, mixing with the unintentional seductiveness of an amused Potter. Fuck, he shot up quickly, ramming against Potter's arm that had strangely reached over him. Draco fell backwards on his head. 

"Ow fuck, Potter. Your arm," Draco groaned as he rubbed the back of his head in exaggerated pain to mask his confusion and mortification over the split second mishap, while Potter peered at him from above in shock and guilt. The concerned hand on his shoulder made him shudder involuntarily. 

"I'm so sorry, er," Potter said, his eyes frantic as the grip of his hand tightened. "I don't know what happened. Are you okay?" He asked as he helped Draco sit up carefully, a hand on the small of Draco's back. 

"I'm fine. Really. Let's have our mille crêpe and tart." He quickly got onto his knees to reach the box, desperately controlling the urge to press Potter down and have his way with him. Even Potter's clumsy concern was doing things to him, fuck. He was slowly losing his mind.

Draco opened the lids to inspect the contents. "This is yours, Potter," he turned around, box in hand to offer Potter when he noticed the man staring contemplatively at his arse, bottom lip between his teeth. Draco's eyes widened in shock, a confused noise escaping his throat. His brain refused to process the situation before him. 

As if noting his distress, Potter's eyes slid across the length of his body before meeting his, the eye contact steady. A slow, predatory smile spread across Potter's lips as he raised his brows in challenge. 

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the actual Merlin buggering fuck. Had Potter really shamelessly checked him out? Draco shoved his face into the box in confusion as he sat back down. But why would Potter be interested in him? They barely knew each other, hardly talked, still squabbled in a manner that Headmistress McGonagall would disapprove, and they had literally tried to kill each other this afternoon. Well, it had been a playful sort of killing if one had to be really accurate about it, but still. Unless Potter had a thing for people who sought to kill him. Like Voldemort. Draco yelled at his brain for the thought. He was now in possession of the knowledge of how it would be like sporting a boner while imagining Potter sucking Voldemort's cock, fuck. 

He frowned at his tart in disappointment when he realised that he had finished half without properly tasting.

"Are you okay?" Potter asked. 

Draco startled in guilt at the look of concern on Potter's face, realising that he had withdrawn into himself, ruining any conversation that they were having. "Yes, I'm alright. Just realised how small the tart was. How do you find your mille crêpe?" He enquired politely, having recommended it to Potter. 

"It's good," Potter said as he pushed his box over, motioning for Draco to try some. Draco looked at the offering, idly noting that Potter had only helped himself to a tiny corner of the cake. Setting his near Potter, Draco bit his lip as he reached for the cake. It was simply calling out his name too loudly for him to resist. He was only mortal after all.

Draco moaned appreciatively as the cream dissolved in his mouth, fresh and airy. He sighed as he smiled appreciatively at the dessert. It really was as good as he remembered, the eggy flavor of crêpes and the light cream. He helped himself to another portion, absorbed in the religious experience of good sweet. 

Breaking out of his spell at Potter's strange throaty noise, Draco looked up, frowning when he noticed that Potter had not touched his proffered tart. "Potter, are you not having any?" He demanded. "Have you grown out sweets too? Are they only for kids?" Draco interrogated with a sneer, connecting the fact that Potter had hardly touched his own cake and was now refusing to have any tart. Whatever had the world become?

Potter was seemingly startled by his vehemence. "No! No! Why would you think that?" He defended as he gestured wildly. "I do, but you just seem so happy whenever you have dessert, so I wanted to leave more for you." Potter trailed off into a mumble.

Draco felt himself flush at the comment, instead occupying himself by pushing both boxes towards Potter. "Stop being so self sacrificial, Potter, honestly. No one's asking you to save the wizarding world again." He rolled his eyes in disapproval. "Also, the more sweets you have in your life, the less insufferable you'll be. Salazar if you turn into Finch-Fletchley." 

Potter raised an unimpressed brow. "Honestly, being Finch-Fletchley wouldn't be so bad would it? He's got things going for him, with or without sweets. It'd be quite nice, I think." 

Draco set his fork down as he folded his arms in disapproval. "Oh really? Pray tell, Potter, whatever of Finch-Fletchley is nice? Is it his job where he makes money making money for people? Or the sports car that would allow him to partake in the dreadful congestion in London?"

"Well it's definitely not those for sure, but I mean—" Potter looked straight at Draco. "Finch-Fletchley managed to get a proper date with you, which definitely counts as something in my book." 

Draco felt his brows twitch as he tried to process Potter's words. His face was heating up as his stomach contracted. He knew that it was his fight or flight instincts kicking in, diverting blood away from his digestive system, preparing for him to react physically, but Draco simply couldn't move his limbs as he watched Potter move to kneel on his knees. Had Potter implied that he was interested in him? Potter was closing the distance between them, his hand slowly reaching over to cup his face. The image before him was exactly like some of the idle thoughts Draco would have in his shower chamber. Only that Potter would usually be dressed in considerably less. This was surely a dream. A product of his prolonged celibacy where his wank fantasy was making him dream about his wank fantasy being his wank fantasy. 

"Can I?" Potter whispered, soft as a sigh, breath brushing Draco's upper lip as his thumb smoothed over Draco's cheekbones. Draco felt his limbs go slack as a noise of consent escaped from his throat. Potter leaned in carefully, their mouths pressing against each other's lightly. Draco let out a soft moan when Potter's tongue brushed against his lips. Draco pushed his fingers across Potter's jaw and into the man's hair as he parted his lips. The kiss was slow, unhurried, yet passionate. 

Draco felt his cock harden in his pants as Potter pushed him down onto the mat. The ache spread across his body when Potter pressed his own hardness against him, their kiss speeding up in hunger. 

Draco had lost track of time when Potter suddenly pulled back, pupils blown, hair wild from Draco's fingers. Draco mirrored the dopey smile on Potter's swollen lips. Arm still thrown over Draco's waist, Potter slid off him to lie on the mat. 

Draco pressed the bottom half of their bodies close, their legs tangling together. A helpless noise between a moan and a sigh fell from Draco's lips when he accidentally rubbed their cocks against each other. 

Potter engaged Draco's lips in another quick, soft kiss as he tucked Draco's fringe behind his ear. They continued to stare at each other, smiles on their faces as they caught their breaths. 

"You're so beautiful," Potter suddenly whispered after a while. "You make me so happy." 

Draco felt his face flame from Potter's unflinching honesty. They were both fully clothed, hands above each other's clothes, but Draco had never experienced such deep intimacy with any of his other lovers—inclusive of the Muggle he had seen throughout the first year of Healer school. He pressed his face into Potter's chest in embarrassment, unable to fathom how he had ended up in Potter's arms, yet too timid to question it in case it disappeared before his eyes. 

It was probably of note that kisses from one Harry Potter could distract Draco Malfoy from his dessert(s).


	5. September

> **(Autumn) **
> 
> Harry James Potter is standing nude behind a counter with only his Gryffindor scarf around his neck. The top of the counter reaches his hips, preserving his modesty. Sunlight spills in from the long window in the kitchen. 
> 
> A mug with "Mr Harry Potter" sits on the marble surface, steam rising from within. Harry James Potter lifts his own non-descript mug to his curled lips, smile spreading wider when the vapour condenses against the lenses of his spectacles. 

"Harry, I'm going to Nox the room if you don't come to bed right now!" Draco threatened emptily as he fell onto his pillows with a huff. It was ridiculous that even after three months of nagging, Harry still refused to buy in to the idea of sleeping in the nude to _ feel _ Draco's expensive French linen bed sheets. 

"Okay, goodnight darling!" Harry called out from the walk-in wardrobe while the cupboard continued to whirl. His friends had gifted him the set of magical wardrobes when he first moved in, in a jibe at Draco's decision to live in a Muggle neighbourhood regardless of the limits on expansion charms. The furniture had multiple compartments, and Draco would have to spin its knob to access his other clothes. While Draco had appreciated his gift deeply, the configurations seemed to stump his significant other. 

"Do you need help reaching Narnia?" Draco asked he stretched languorously on his bed, feeling the release in his muscles. "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," he laughed, frowning when his dressing room was silent. 

"Harry?" Draco called out as he tread towards his walk-in wardrobe carefully, wand in hand. He made a curious noise at the sight of Potter surrounded by what seemed to be the contents of an entire wardrobe, levitated. 

"Draco, the, erm, calendar," Harry said as he pointed weakly into the cupboard. 

Oh, Salazar's slapping balls! Draco waved his clothes back into the wardrobe, only for Harry to flick them back out distractedly as he reached into the wardrobe. He flipped the calendar forward, something Draco had never been able to do due to Hermione's ridiculous spells to conceal Harry's photographs until the start of the new month. It had been intended to drive the calendar sales throughout the year, and while it had been incredibly frustrating, it was undeniably effective. Draco used leap out of bed at the start of every month, discreetly consuming articles lauding Potter's tantalising pictures (lengthy descriptions in prose due to Hermione's replication limitations), and he had even stayed up once to uncover February's photograph at midnight. It had been so ridiculous. 

"It's the extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-large version with additional and special photographs," Potter murmured as he regarded Draco distractedly. 

Draco shifted his weight, unsure of Potter's thoughts. It had been so long since he had looked at the calendar properly that it had ceased to register in his mind, hidden behind his clothes. How could he have forgotten to pack the calendar away? Draco was so mortified that he would have begged for an AK just to end his misery. 

"Hermione told me that someone paid two hundred thousand galleons for the extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-large version." 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that Potter would stop emphasising the number of extras. He had initially ignored the quantifiers, only to understand that he had misjudged Hermione's marketing gimmicks when he received the calendar. Taking six owls to deliver due to the anti-tamper spells, it was close to two metres wide and more than three metres tall. Draco had been giddy when he laid eyes on the special cover of his edition. 

"Well, it was for charity?" Draco attempted, the casualness he had been attempting falling flat completely.

Harry shook his head with a wry laugh. Draco watched him closely, unsure of what Harry now thought about him. 

"There's um, a full frontal for November in this edition." Harry said as he gestured Draco towards him. Draco moved slowly towards the other man, head ringing from the dissonance of standing at the spot where he used to wank, with the object of his fantasy. 

Harry waved his wand for the calendar to flip ahead, watching Draco as he took in the exclusive photograph. Draco felt his mouth dry at the picture of a wet, naked, and half hard Potter standing in the sea. Water reaching in the middle of his cock, Harry tilted his head as he combed his matted hair back carelessly. He burst into laughter when a strong wave collided against him. 

Draco felt his cock harden as the photograph replayed, his eyes focusing on different parts of the picture each time. He desperately fought the urge to reach between his legs to stroke himself. 

"So you like it?" Harry teased as he reached over to loop an arm around Draco's waist, tilting his head at Draco's leaking erection. 

Draco blinked at his lover in exasperation, holding the hand around him in place as he apparated them back to his bedroom. "You're so—" Draco bit out as he devoured his lover's mouth hungrily, pushing him onto the bed as he pressed fervent kisses down Harry's body, "fucking—" he bit the tender flesh in Harry's inner thighs lightly, ignoring the bobbing shaft beside his face. He smirked when his lover kicked him lightly as he motioned for him to get along with it 

"Sexy," he finished as he finally nuzzled against the fattened cock, pressing a kiss to the underside of it as he sank to his knees, trailing to the leaking tip with his tongue before sucking the engorged head wetly. Conjuring lube wandlessly (having constant sex with a wizard really changed things), Draco reached to fondle Harry's balls, relishing in the breathless moans escaping from his lover. 

Working his other hand along the bottom of Harry's prick, Draco swallowed as he felt fingers along his scalp, guiding him as Harry thrusted into his throat. Breathing through his nose, he loosened his jaw as he continued to pump the base of Harry's cock, basking in the groans he pulled out.

Pace unfaltering as Harry's balls tightened, Draco bobbed up and down the warm length with hollowed cheeks as he reached between his own legs to match the unrelenting rhythm. Draco swirled his tongue on Harry's slit as Harry arched off the bed, orgasm tearing across his body, fingers going slack in Draco's hair. 

Swallowing the warm come in his mouth, Draco continued his ministrations, speeding up his own hand on his lap. He was so close. The sight of Harry keening underneath him finally pushed Draco over the edge, his mouth going slack as he moaned against Harry's cock. 

Draco spelled himself clean as he popped off the half hard cock with a wet kiss. He smirked at the languorous smile on Harry's face. 

"Come here and give me a snog too," Harry demanded as he pointed at his lips. Laying beside Harry, they slotted their feet together as Harry scooted closer. Reminiscent of their first kiss, the kiss they shared was no less tender. 

"Can't believe that you really have my calendar," Harry suddenly said as he moved backwards to look at him. So they were now back on the topic, Draco sighed he clung to Potter, desperate to hide his face in embarrassment. 

"No wonder Hermione was so insistent on putting that full frontal photograph for that edition. She probably knew that you were the one purchasing it." Draco hummed in agreement. It was unfortunate that his life was now populated by numerous Gryffindors with no sense of privacy. How did Hermione manage to not bring it up to him? Draco refused to think about everything that he might have missed. 

"You know, I really thought that you were joking in Paris about owning one."

Draco pulled back to slap his significant other on the chest. "It's for charity," he repeated. "Also, everyone was getting one. As a Malfoy, I needed to outdo everyone," he said haughtily, bursting into laughter with his lover. 

"Well, you have me now, does it count?" Harry asked as he settled his hand on Draco's waist, an earnest expression on his face.

Draco felt his face heat up at the vulnerable question. Pushing Harry away with a hand on his silly face, he huffed at the laughter he received. "Desist with the mush! Please abide by the established ban, Potter!" He shoved his partner's shoulder when the mocking persisted. 

Harry batted his hands away as he held them loosely in his. "Just vocalising my thoughts, love. So am I good enough? Am I able to replace an extra-extra-extra—" Harry made an exaggerated, winded noise when Draco shoved at his abdomen. Harry smiled at him lazily as he extracted himself to pull the covers over them with a loud sigh. 

"Converting to the nudist lifestyle?" 

Harry shook his head as he lay back down. "Just for today. Too tired to get to Narnia," he mumbled as he turned around to be the little spoon.

"Alright," Draco acquiesced with amusement as he waved the lights off. Pressing himself close, he regulated his breath with Harry's. The warm, strong weight of his lover in his arms left him with an indescribable contentment. Their relationship in the past three months between their first kiss in Paris and now had been hectic, to put it lightly. He was glad that they had made it through the media fury, conflicting schedules and most importantly, incredulous and insufferable friends. Harry had shared about wanting to know him better after hearing stories from Hermione (was Hermione matchmaking when she mentioned him to Harry and vice versa? Was he reading too much into it?), and he had talked about his growing attraction to Draco through their interactions in his usual disarming honesty that left Draco uncomfortable, embarrassed but unquantifiably happy. 

Unlike his lover, Draco felt challenged by verbal expressions of affection. His parents had never been particularly demonstrative of their love, instead manifesting it in their indulgence of him. He could interpret his mother's love from the meals she sent him, and he reciprocated through equivalent gestures whenever he saw something she might like. 

Likewise, he had tried to convey his love for Harry in his gestures and tone, but he was aware of its inadequacy. After multiple taunts from his best friends, Draco had come to terms with the duration of his attraction to Harry, and the fact that he was a good person worthy of Harry's equivalent esteem. Draco wanted to work hard for his lover. 

"Harry," Draco said quietly as he looked into the darkness of their room. 

"Mm?" 

"I do love you more than the calendar-you in my head," he said seriously, hoping that Harry would understand what he meant. "You're more than the boy from school and the Quidditch player on the wireless," he continued, honesty falling from his lips without forethought. He was first in love with insufferable Gryffindor that would right everything, the godfather that played blocks with Teddy through his "Smash Teddy" phase, the seeker that flew with a crazed, single minded purpose, and the man that oozed careless sex appeal in front of the camera, but he was now in love with the Harry Potter that couldn't wake up in the mornings and wore clothes to bed because he was worried about sagging balls. 

"M'kay, love you too. More." Harry said incoherently, his words slurring as he patted Draco's hand lightly. "You're 'dorable," Harry mumbled as he moved his hands away, burrowing deeper into his pillow. 

Draco smiled to himself as his heart squeezed in the depths of affection he had for the man. He often worried about the future they would have together, but maybe, it would be just like his extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-large calendar—he would take it one month at a time, and always wait excitedly for the next.


	6. December

> **(Christmas) **
> 
> Harry James Potter is sitting nude atop a white marble counter with a Slytherin scarf wrapped around his neck. There is a present beautifully wrapped in a foil of Appleby Arrows' pale blue on his lap. A thin silver ribbon completes it. 
> 
> Harry James Potter sets the present with the colourful mountain of gifts behind him before hopping off the counter.
> 
> A floppy, big red ribbon is revealed to be tied into a beautiful bow around his cock. He reaches and pulls the end of the ribbon. It uravels smoothly, and falls silkily onto the floor.
> 
> There is a flash of skin before the picture replays. 

**Author's Note:**

> Working Title: Extra extra extra extra extra large sexy charity calendar. 
> 
> I really hope that I did the sexy calendar trope justice. Charity tropes have always been my weakness. 
> 
> I have so much headcanon that I couldn't fit in properly. 
> 
> Do point out any errors! I would be eternally grateful.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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